


A Flame Went Out

by RedYoYo



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Gore, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Eye Gouging, Eye Trauma, Gen, Gore, Grounding techniques, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, Loneliness, Scratching, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Two Endings, Violent Thoughts, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedYoYo/pseuds/RedYoYo
Summary: Roman struggling with intrusive thoughts late at night. This could go one of two ways.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. A Flame Went Out

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has multiple endings as the creative process demanded it. I wrote it as a way to cope with some of my own intrusive thoughts and I wanted to tell a very dark tale. While writing the first chapter of this fic, however, the story diverged. At the time I did not know how to implement gore into my story and not wanting to stop writing I forced myself to step away from that idea and write a happy ending. However that was not the story I set off to tell, so after some consultations with some lovely writers I came back to the fic and wrote the bad ending.

The door to the prince's room creaked as he opened it weakly. He leaned on the door frame and moaned painfully. His tired eyes peered through his messy auburn locks. Looking into the dark abyss Roman saw shadows. The same shadows that lurked in his mind, now veiled every corner of his room. He stepped in slowly. Not due to caution, but weariness.

Roman limped towards his bed, stopping a few steps short of it. He slipped out of his outfit. Off came his crown, his sash, both left caringly on the nightstand. His shirt and pants were, however, ditched on the carpet as Roman just wanted to get under the velvet blankets right then and there. He wanted to just forget he ever existed, let his bed be his resting place, let him never wake.

Once he was down under, he simply closed his еуеs and focused on the feeling the bedsheets left on his bare skin. The fabric pressing against him felt nettlesome. Unbearably so. Roman moaned as he dug his nails into his forearms, hoping it would distract him from the sensations on his skin.

His nails were in deep and as he dragged them down his arms he felt like he was burning. He felt searing flames rise up from his chest and it concentrated in his arms. His anger. His sadness. They were all bunched up into the claw marks he had created.

‘Created’. No, that was wrong - he wasn’t creating anything. It was wrong to call it that. Roman was destroying himself. He wanted to do this. Wanted to rip himself apart. Nothing felt right anymore. Not even sleeping in his own bed.

At that thought Roman threw his blanket on the floor. He shoved away its warmth and let the crisp air touch him. The prince covered his face as he laid like that for a bit. His body shook, although he didn’t care if it were his tearful emotions or the cold embrace of Death that made him so bitterly jittery.

Roman tried to breathe in, but something choked him. His face was burning as much as his arms now. His cheeks were seething and stained with tears. He was gonna stop breathing right then and there and no one would care. No one would notice.

The prince let out a wail so loud it jolted him up. His hands limply slipped off his face and he was forced to face the Cimmerian shade that thoroughly engulfed his room, his mind and was seeping through the cracks in his heart.

Roman looked around the emptiness. Hoping, praying even, that he wouldn't be alone. But no, here he was, his only company the void and his thoughts. The nothingness that surrounded him in his room, the unwanted thoughts that drowned his mind. The prince felt justified in wanting to disappear. All these gruesome thoughts he was having were warranted. Thomas chose the others over him far too many times. He sacrificed himself far too many times, and was yet to be acknowledged. Roman’s body shook as he whimpered and wondered if his actions were to be recognized if he took them too far? _If he made the ultimate sacrifice._ _If he permanently closed his eyes, would the others remember him as a hero? Or would they see him as a coward who wasn’t strong enough to stay?_

As those questions flooded the prince, he reached for his face once more, sobbing into his palms as they slowly curled up and his nails dug into his forehead and slowly dragged towards his shut eyes and pressed harshly.  _ Claw them... Take them out.... Take them out... Gouge them.... Gouge them… Gouge them... _


	2. A Flame Went Out: Good End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil hears Roman just in the nick of time to stop him.

Roman gasped as he felt a hand on his shoulder, which snapped him out of his panicked frenzy. He looked through his palms into the darkness and through his tears he saw a familiar pair of tired black eyes. 

“V-virgil...?” He hesitated in announcing. 

“Roman, are you alright? I heard you cry out and came as soon as I could...” Virgil rubbed the prince’s shoulder, to provide comfort, that much was evident. So someone did hear him; if Virgil heard him, why not the others? 

_ Why was Patton ignoring his cry for help ?  Why was Logan not concerned by the distress that was afflicting an integral part of Thomas’ productivity? Was it really only Virgil that cared enough to check up on him? _

“Roman.” Virgil repeated his name, with a bit of firmness to it, as he squeezed his shoulder, possibly to ground him a bit. “I need you to name something white in your room. Can you do that for me please?” Anxiety was being gentle in his demands, Roman tried to take in a deep breath as he tried to peer into the darkness and look past it. White. White. What was white in his room?

“The clothes I haphazardly threw onto the floor...” The prince murmured as he felt the other side sit on his bed next to him. 

“Anything else?” Virgil prodded.

Roman's eyes wandered around his room. They were seeking light in the darkness. A flash of white among the shadows that threatened to consume everything. Roman’s breath hitched, hastily followed by another squeeze from Virgil’s pale hand.

“Take your time. We’ve got all night if you need it.” The other side’s voice gave the prince some stability. Roman’s eyes looked over to his company in the pit of loneliness that was his chamber. He took a hold of his breathing as his eyes danced around the room some more until they settled on the hand on his shoulder.

“Your skin is quite fair...” His voice never failed to come out in drained mutterings. “Might say it’s the fairest of them all...” Roman laughed weakly at his own musing. He had made that observation before, had done that same slight before. It provided little comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

Virgil side smiled at the expected comment and continued to guide Roman through this color exercise. After a few minutes, despite his room being as dim as it was before, the prince didn’t feel it so. He could see now that the shadows had retreated. He did not know where they ran off to - yet that almost did not matter. Roman could feel his courage come back to him. His world needn't be so dismal. He needn't blind himself to reality, because the reality was that there’d always be a place for him. Even if it was in his room, his only company being his thoughts and a frantic emo. That would be enough.


	3. A Flame Went Out: Bad End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one hears Roman. No one stops him from giving up.

Roman gasped for air. Throat tightening. His screams and tears had suffocated him -  _ so painful _ . With his fingertips still pressed firmly on his face, he looked through them. There was nothing but a blur of darkness and confusion that laid in front of him. There was nothing for him here.  _ What was he even doing here...? _ _   
_ He felt out of place in this cold chamber. This was not his room, it was a prison cell. And the lonely prince inside it awaited his sentence. A sentence he was to deliver himself. He was the lowliest criminal. The harshest judge. The cruelest executioner.

He did not belong here, nor anywhere. These realizations picked at Roman’s very essence and tore into him like daggers. His sharp nails clawed at his eyes. He dug them in with no remorse. His fingertips were coated in crimson viscous coats as he cried out loudly - distressed as ever. The cries grew louder as he squeezed his fingers tightly around the gooey orb. Cries turned into shrieks as he shoved it out. Shrieks settled into painful whimpers as he’d drop it weakly, let go of the ball and listen as it dangled with a distinct  **plop** . Roman wasted no time to repeat the painful experience once more.

\--- 

It was done. Roman felt the pain from his chest flare up. His vision was but a shadow. Yet the shadows in his room were unperceivable. No more shadows and no more darkness, besides the one he had given himself. And despite all that, the pain never left his side. It was a foul fiend that still dared to haunt him. Dared to taunt him and sting his empty sockets. Gnawed at his empty soul.

The prince stood in silence for a while. The only thing that kept him preoccupied was gently rubbing his fingers together, feeling the thick liquid stick between his fingers and slowly rip apart with a faint noise as he’d spread them out. The pain was slowly numbing and the blood was drying. Roman lost his distraction, but he did not need it anymore. He did not need anything. Or anyone.

Then it dawned on him. No other side came throughout all this to witness the gore and insanity as it unfolded. _Not Morality. Not Logic. Not Anxiety._ _None of them. Who are they? They don’t matter._

“They don’t care.” His thoughts were now whispers he’d utter to himself. He had given himself in to them. They were his truth now. They were his reality. The loneliness, the shadows and the darkness. They painted a grim picture of his future, and yet he accepted it. 

“Some of us are just meant to be alone.”  _ Unnoticed. Unloved. Unwanted. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this was the story I set out to tell, thank you for bearing with it


End file.
